Hamish: “I am not you.”
“Indeed, you are not me. I just can’t bear to see the person I like run away with someone else. Elisa is dead, so why did she come back? Why is she occupying Aoife’s body and being with another man? Hamish, can you really watch her be with Louis, even get married and have children?”
Hamish coughed heavily, his chest trembling with pain, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He swallowed hard, realizing that his body wouldn’t hold up until the day Elisa married Louis and had children.
“You know better than anyone how Aoife died. Don’t force the blame onto Elisa. You owe Aoife, and you owe Elisa,” Hamish said, holding a syringe in front of Finn. “I am the one who sinned with you.”
Finn lowered his head, his expression inscrutable, but his hands, tied behind the chair, clenched tightly. He knew who had caused Aoife’s death. He was the executioner who had gradually forced Aoife into the swamp. His callous indifference had become the final blow that crushed Aoife’s heart.
“Lila didn’t die three years ago. She was saved and underwent plastic surgery to live under the identity of Lorelei in the entertainment industry. Aoife’s death was partly orchestrated by her, but ultimately, it was because of the stage name you gave to Aoife, Elisa, that Lorelei directed all her vengeance towards her. Ironically, after Aoife’s death, it was Elisa who avenged her. Lorelei’s identity was exposed, and her reputation was ruined.”
“Where is she?” Finn’s suppressed anger was evident in his voice.
“I’ve had her arrested and locked up. If you want her dead, I’ll bring her to you.”
Finn looked up, his face an abnormal pallor, his vacant eyes staring at Hamish for a long time before he hoarsely uttered, “It’s not that simple, is it? Tell me, what do you want?”
“I want your legs.”
Finn looked at the syringe in Hamish’s hand and chuckled softly, his upper body leaning back in the chair, trembling with laughter.
With that drug, injecting it into his legs would easily render them crippled.
“You are bound here, with no one to save you. I can cripple your legs in less than a minute. I’m not asking for your consent. I want you to understand that this is the only thing you can do for the deceased Aoife. Lorelei hurt her, and you know what needs to be done.”
Finn didn’t directly respond to Hamish’s statement, only saying, “I never thought I’d be taking orders from you one day.”
“Have you made your decision?”
“Fine, it’s just a pair of legs, isn’t it? I’ll give them to you, but remember, I want Lorelei’s life intact.”
Hamish squatted down, the syringe aimed at Finn’s knee. With a firm grip, he pierced the skin, injecting the drug. As the man grunted, the potion flowed in.
Finn clenched his teeth, his jaw shaking, his temples bulging, and the veins on his forehead and neck protruding. Bound behind him, his hands struggled uncontrollably, his shirt now soaked with sweat, his entire body resembling someone pulled from the water.
Handing over Lorelei to him would be the best way to deal with Finn. It was certainly more agonizing than death itself.
In fact, he could easily kill Finn now, but doing so would cause unnecessary trouble, especially with the Burns Group. Those shareholders were not to be trifled with. It was better to leave Finn crippled to continue to restrain them. It would also free up his time to take over the Burns Group, gradually transferring all the assets to Elisa before he neared death.
Before he died, he had to remove all obstacles for Elisa.
As he thought, Hamish coughed heavily, a cough from lung cancer. Once it started, it wouldn’t stop. His hand slipped, and the syringe fell to the ground.
Clutching his chest, he retrieved a spare medication from his coat pocket, swallowed two pills without water, chewing them down, bitter and potent. It was a bitterness that couldn’t be washed away with water, lingering in his mouth, almost nauseating.
Finn was almost fainting. Having been injected with two doses of drugs by Elisa earlier, he had been enduring it, but now, with Hamish’s potent injection into his knee, the intense pain left him feeling as if his soul was leaving his body. He was too weak to speak, but listening to Hamish’s coughing, he noticed the pills in his hand.
If he had the strength to speak, he would have asked Hamish one thing: “Are you close to death?”
If the answer is “yes,” he would pass out, perhaps even smiling when he regained consciousness. After Aoife left him, the only thing he could look forward to now was seeing Hamish suffer and die in agony.